First person: Ron Mackenna on judging the World Porridge Championships

19:25, 10 Oct 2015

Updated 21:01, 11 Oct 2015

ByRon Mackenna

SCOTTISH restaurant critic Ron Mackenna describes his day judging the World Porridge Championships.

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James M Ros

Restaurant critic Ron Mackenna was a judge at the World Porridge Championships

THERE were bagpipes, of course.

We swayed through the village to their tune, a cosmopolitan crocodile of judges, competitors, fans and onlookers heading straight up the main road to the international arena or as it is more commonly know: Carr-Bridge Village Hall.

Inside, pans had been burnished and pots a-polished, burners roared on full flame, but all eyes were on the trophy that later would crown the future world champion and perhaps make someone a fortune. In porridge oats anyway.

There it sat glittering at the front of the hall: The Golden Spurtle. And there was whisky too. Lashings of whisky. As the afternoon progressed, as competitors took the stage, wooden spurtles birling furiously, for heat after heat, the pace only briefly dropped for the free whisky.

Tastings cunningly timed to keep the audience at the pitch of anticipation. No whisky for us judges. Only bouts of fresh, clear Highland water to revive those of us who flagged, maybe swooned a little, as yet another batch of steaming porridge came through the door. Who needed the whisky?

James M Ross

Ron Mackenna with fellow judges

Behind scenes the atmosphere was big fun too. Somewhere between the Vicar of Dibley and Local Hero the whole hugely succesful thing run by fabulous local volunteers.

Wise cracking local women kept the judging table spotless, provided us judges with a fresh wooden spoons to taste every new bowl, smiling kilted menfolk handed out napkins to wipe up the gloops, both keeping track of every secretly numbered bowl to guarantee the World Championship’s famed impartiality.

It was Scottish charm personified. And it was hard work. At one point all four of the judges admired the golden grey colour of a bowl of pin-head porridge, but wondered if the competitor had forgotten to salt it? How could he or she? There are only three ingredients allowed in the classic competition- and salt is one of them.

At another point we were deadlocked on whether an American competitors oatmealy salad, surprisingly delicious, was indeed a salad at all when a sudden roar came from outside the door. On stage a Scandinavian competitor was confessing. “Thish morning for breakfast I had…cornflakesh.”

Yes there were lumps, yes there were runs, often there wasn’t enough salt, occasionally there were claggy, clumpy too-dry porridges, bit it was a tough, high pressure kitchen out there. In the end the decision of who had won the Golden Spurtle was reached.

James M Ross

Thorbjorn Kristensen's speciality winning porridge waffle

It was an Astrophycisist. He may even have been English. Simon Rookyard’s bowl of porridge, was the best seasoned, the best textured and most importantly the best tasting.

What kept us judges locked in our room for longer than was expected was deciding the winner of the speciality porridge section. Was it the porridge curry? No seriously. It was delicious. Or the dessert with the mascarpone and toasted almonds? And porridge.

Who knew almonds and oats went so well. There was even a long wrangle over the porridgey salady, chai-seeds one. This was possibly good enough to serve in a Michelin starred restaurant, we thought.

There was actually a real tear in the eye of Norwegian Thorbjorn Kristensen when it was announced he had won the speciality title. For a waffle. Made from porridge. You couldn’t make it up.

Nor could you make up a competition that attracts competitors from around the globe, yet is so charmingly run, all done by volunteers and is completely unspoilt by commercialism.